


Fault

by virgilsjourney (jenna221b)



Series: Sanders Sides Ficlets [13]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Caring Logan, Cognitive Distortions, Emotional Manipulation, Fitting In (Hogwarts Houses!), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Logan's Room, Missing Scene, One Shot, Virgil opens up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 07:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13608357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna221b/pseuds/virgilsjourney
Summary: Virgil snorts, and sits on Logan’s bed. He crosses his legs to stop himself from bringing his knees to his chest. “Can you, um... just run through those uh... cognitive distortions again?”Takes place after Fitting In (Hogwarts Houses!) but before Can Lying Be Good?





	Fault

It’s difficult trying to navigate a conversation with Logan, sometimes.

Virgil doesn’t mind it, usually. Sure, it can be a bit frustrating if Logan takes him too literally, but more often than not, the best ‘conversations’ he’s had have been whenever Logan goes into what Virgil nicknames his ‘mini-lecture mode’. The most recent had been a passionate rant about the likelihood of some Black Mirror episode actually happening in the future.

Now, Virgil doesn’t really know how to approach this conversation. He just knows that it  _has_  to happen. It’s an unusual feeling- he obviously is used to avoiding any sort of confrontation or confession-like scenario. But now, he knows he has to tell someone. He finally feels like maybe, just maybe, he can be a part of this group.

And families don’t keep harmful secrets.

He knocks on Logan’s door gently, smiling at the casual “Mmhm?” that Logan greets him with, telling him it’s fine to enter. He opens the door and sees Logan sitting at his desk, swiveling in his seat to face him.

“Hello, Virgil.”

Virgil straightens his shoulders. “I need to talk to you.”

Logan smiles. “You  _are_ talking to me.”

Virgil snorts, and sits on Logan’s bed. He crosses his legs to stop himself from bringing his knees to his chest. “Can you, um... just run through those uh... cognitive distortions again?”

Logan adjusts his glasses, scrutinizing Virgil over the lenses. “Certainly. May I ask... why? I understand they are... difficult patterns of thinking to break out from, but it would help to identify a particular aggressor-”

Virgil closes his eyes. This should be the easy part now, Logan is practically gift-wrapping him an invitation to  _tell him_ , but the words won’t come. And what if- he fears the walls have ears. What if his words will be  _stopped?_

“Virgil?”

He opens his eyes. Logan has moved away from his desk to sit opposite him on the bed. He mirrors Virgil’s position, folding his legs until they’re crossed beneath him. He looks at Virgil intently.

“Would you like me to run through some breathing exercises?”

Virgil shakes his head. But, he starts letting his hands rise and fall in front of his chest in a steady rhythm, just in case. It’s then that his hands brush against the Slytherin tie he’s still wearing- he’d forgotten to take it off at the end of the video.

“I’m...” Virgil breathes out. “I know you said they’re- they’re difficult... thinking patterns to um... stop or. Whatever. It’s just. I think I’m finding it _more_  difficult because- because-”

He breaks off and taps meaningfully on the Slytherin emblem on his tie.

Logan blinks, clearly baffled. “Because... Slytherin?” he tries.

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to groan. He taps again on the tie, making sure that his finger is directly pointing to the head of the snake.

Logan’s eyes widen. “Oh.  _Oh_.” He clears his throat, and something in the air changes. Virgil can practically see the gears in Logan’s brain turning, thinking about how to word the conversation without being silenced by... by... 

“I see,” Logan adds, and Virgil shivers at how  _cold_  he sounds.

But then, he realises that the coldness isn’t directed at him at all. In fact, Logan is glaring at the snake on Virgil’s tie and, if Virgil weren’t feeling so on edge, he might even consider laughing.

“Did you know,” Logan says deliberately lightly, shuffling closer to Virgil on the bed. “That manipulators have a variety of techniques to assert control.”

Virgil shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Logan nods as if Virgil has replied to him. “Yes. For example, just off the top of my head- there is guilt tripping, a type of intimidation tactic. This is where a manipulator may suggest to someone who cares very much that they, in fact, do not care  _enough,_  and so this causes feelings of self-doubt and- well, guilt, obviously- to manifest and-”

Logan breaks off as Virgil can’t help his breath catching.

“Is this... familiar?” Logan asks carefully.

Virgil looks at him and nods, ashamed at how he can suddenly feel his lip wobbling treacherously. 

Logan reaches out, one hand covering Virgil’s shaking knee. “I’d like to thank you for... trusting me enough to tell me, Virgil. Now I have all the facts, we can work through this. I’ll help you. This should never be something you have to face alone. You are... I hope you know you are an instrumental part of this group. Your concerns deserve to be dealt with.”

Virgil swallows. He wants to thank Logan for being discreet, for not adding to his anxiety over being silenced. Somehow, in Logan’s room, he feels safe from any outside influence. He wants to say so much more, but his throat is rapidly closing up.

“And Virgil?” Logan’s hand moves from his knee to squeeze his hand, warm and reassuring. “It’s not your fault.”

Virgil looks up at the ceiling, and blinks rapidly.

“It’s not your fault,” Logan insists again. His eyes glance down to the tie and back up. “I should know. I don’t deal in  _falsehoods_.”

The insult is so barbed and so Logan-like that Virgil finally breathes out with a shaky laugh. There are tears on his cheeks, but for once he doesn’t care. Finally, he feels  _listened_  to.


End file.
